


All Our Tomorrows

by AuroraNova



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 00:12:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18559981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraNova/pseuds/AuroraNova
Summary: Garak is an exile once more. Julian gets transfer orders. It's decision time for both of them, and this is not at all how Garak expected the evening to unfold.





	All Our Tomorrows

**Author's Note:**

> Who else is excited for the [What We Left Behind documentary](https://www.fathomevents.com/events/what-we-left-behind?presale=)? I'm so curious to see what the writers would envision for an 8th season... and we can dream of some G/B, right?

Julian is distracted, and not in the way where he’s considering a medical problem in his head. No, this kind of distraction ends in one of two ways: he will want to talk, or he’ll want to have sex so he can stop thinking.

Garak isn’t sure which he’d prefer. On one hand, he wants to know what has Julian so thoroughly preoccupied he can’t even make a halfway decent argument about the father of modern Andorian novellas. On the other, he’s afraid any desire to talk on Julian’s part will be either bad news or a demand for some emotion or story Garak won’t share, which will lead to a fight.

No, sex would be better.

Julian has other ideas. His eyes are flitting around his quarters as they do when he’s preparing himself to broach a difficult subject.

Garak fears the worst. This undefined but decidedly not platonic relationship they’ve created is over. How could it be otherwise? Julian was at loose ends once O’Brien returned to Earth and his brief romance with Dax came to a mutually agreed end. He was struggling to adjust his view of himself to encompass luring Sloan to the station in order to use an illegal mind probe on the operative – it took Garak weeks and considerable hacking of the station’s computer to put together what had happened there – and he gravitated toward Garak. Now he is ready to move on to the next phase in his life. It’s to be expected.

Unfortunately, Garak has no next phase in his own life. He is still, or again, an exile. Not for displeasing Tain this time. For being a member of the Obsidian Order at all. Whatever the cause, the years of his future stretch out with little to no hope of ever returning home. Perhaps, when he is old and weak, he will be sufficiently unthreatening that he might be allowed to die on Cardassian soil. Even that isn’t likely.

Julian finally makes eye contact. “What’s your plan? Are you going to stay here indefinitely hoping that you’ll be allowed to go home?”

Sex would have been greatly preferable to this.

“I doubt that will happen,” says Garak.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Look, I know I can’t comprehend how much Cardassia means to you,” says Julian, and he’s right about that much. “But is it worth giving up any chance of building a life just to hang on to the hope of returning?”

Garak shakes his head. Truly, Julian does not understand. “I find it odd that the one time I attempt optimism, you chide me for it.”

“This isn’t optimism.”

“Oh?” If clinging to an impossible dream isn’t optimism, Garak doesn't know what qualifies.

“No. It’s your usual pessimism, because you’re assuming the only good life you can ever have is on Cardassia.”

“I would be content anywhere in the Union,” says Garak. More content than outside of it, anyway. “And your statement demonstrates just how little you understand the importance of Cardassia to me. Humans scatter about the galaxy with no attachment to your homeworld at all. It’s a wonder Earth isn’t abandoned by now.”

“You’re trying to change the subject. Are you going to stay on the station forever?”

Garak doesn’t know. It’s the closest thing to a home he has, much as that particular truth galls him. It’s probably the nearest he will get to Cardassian space, barring some unforeseen catastrophe, and he doesn’t really think he’ll ever be allowed to return. The only reason he wasn’t tried in the grand Cardassian tradition of predetermined guilt was his status as a hero of the rebellion. Allowing him to live was supposed to be thanks, but he’s not convinced it isn’t just a slower death.

Somehow, it didn’t seem quite so intolerable once he and Julian changed the nature of their relationship.

Disinclined to elaborate, he says only, “I can’t predict the future. Who can say where any of us will be?”

Julian gives a frustrated huff. “Could you please, for once, answer a question directly?”

“I don’t see why I should.”

“Because it’s important to me,” says Julian, all too earnestly.

Garak doesn’t know why it matters if Julian is about to end their association altogether or decide he’d prefer to be simply friends, and thus he can’t understand Julian’s motivation. He’s intrigued enough to play along. “Very well. I have not decided.”

“That’s not much help.”

“If you ask for the truth, you ought to be prepared not to like it.”

“Fair enough.” Julian considers for a moment, then announces, “I’ve received transfer orders.”

It’s not a surprise. Starfleet is sending its best and brightest on the new missions to the Gamma Quadrant, or so Garak has heard. With the war a year in the past, the Federation is ready to explore the Gamma Quadrant again. It’s been delicate work, negotiating with the Klingons and Romulans for who gets what rights where, but all parties are, if not satisfied, willing to accept the arrangement which has finally been reached. Assigning a doctor of Julian’s brilliance to one of these Gamma Quadrant missions is the obvious choice for Starfleet.

The problem is, Garak won’t even have friendly lunches to which he might look forward. This is even worse than Julian deciding he wants to go back to strict friendship.

“Chief Medical Officer of the _Archimedes_ , as a lieutenant commander.”

“On a mission to the Gamma Quadrant?” asks Garak.

“Yes. It’s good news, in that for a while I thought they were just going to keep me here until I got the hint and resigned.”

“Over your genetics?”

Julian nods. “I wasn’t sure if Starfleet was really willing to let me have a career beyond DS9. Evidently, the answer is yes.”

“I’m glad common sense has prevailed,” says Garak, and he is pleased for Julian, if not himself.

“I know. It’s just that part of me doesn’t want to leave.”

“Perhaps I’ve misunderstood, but I doubt it would be a good idea to turn this posting down.” He doesn’t need to be well-versed in Starfleet politics to deduce how much declining could hurt Julian’s career.

“Oh, you understand perfectly about that much.”

Garak waits to be told which aspect of this conversation he has failed to grasp.

“You really don’t know, do you?” asks Julian, stunned and amused. “Allow me to explain. I’m not as interested in leaving as I would be if the person who means more to me than anyone else wasn’t staying on DS9.”

“I was under the impression you and Dax agreed you’re better suited as friends,” says Garak. Because surely, surely Julian cannot mean him.

Julian shakes his head. “I’m not talking about Ezri.” He grabs Garak’s hand and interlaces it with his own, a gesture casual among his people but quite intimate in Cardassian terms.

He _does_ mean Garak, who was so entrenched in his usual realistically unhopeful mindset he failed to see the obvious. How embarrassing.

“It’s a two-year mission,” continues Julian, and Garak thinks for this man, he will wait two years.

“I hope you’ll get regular subspace communications time.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.” Julian suddenly gets very nervous and stands up. Garak is not at all willing to let Julian destroy his Starfleet career over their relationship, and thinks he might have to leave the station after all, if it will ensure Julian takes the posting on the _Archimedes_.

Julian goes to his desk and picks up what appears to be a very old book. “This belonged to my great-grandmother.”

Garak knows enough to recognize the characters on the cover, if not understand their meaning. “Your great-grandmother read Tellarite?”

“It was a souvenir from her brief stint in Starfleet. I don’t think she read a word.” Still radiating nerves, Julian finally holds the book out. “I’d like you to have it, if you’ll accept.”

For once, Garak is speechless. The last thing he expected from the evening was a marriage proposal. He’s impressed, both that Julian managed to surprise him so thoroughly, and that he’s followed the Cardassian custom of offering a family heirloom to ask for a betrothal.

“I know we haven’t talked about it and maybe I’m completely misunderstanding what we are, but I’ve been thinking about this since I realized why I want to stay. It’s you, Elim. It’s been you for a long time. And if you accept, you could come with me. Spouses are allowed on the _Archimedes_ , and while I realize that is outrageously presumptuous, you haven’t left me with any other options except presuming.”

The idea is appealing, without question. However, Garak isn’t one to get carried away by desires. “My dear, I don’t think marrying me is going to do your career any favors.”

It isn’t a refusal, and Julian’s eyes light up. He sits on the couch, still holding the book lightly and in easy range of Garak’s hands. “Do I look like I care?”

No, he does not – now. He might, in the future.

“I know what you’re thinking. You’re worrying that I’ll regret this in the future, and you’re wondering if you can leave Cardassia behind so definitively.”

Alarmingly, Julian is only half right. Garak hadn’t been thinking about himself at all, only the ramifications for Julian’s career. That is very revealing.

“My career is always going to have limitations. I’ve accepted that, and in so doing, I’ve freed myself from the need to strive to be the model Augment officer. Don’t make my decisions for me, Elim. This is my career, my choice to make and weigh what I think is worth risking.”

He thinks Garak is worth the risk, and suddenly Garak understands the human word ‘heartwarming.’ “You are certain.”

“I’m positive. I’ve made my decision, and now it’s your turn.”

Garak thinks of Cardassia, of warm summer days with freshly picked teza fruit for sale and the scent of makenta blossoms in the air, of the autumn winds racing down the Orvalit mountains to the streets of Lakat, of nights at the open-air theaters, of familiar buildings that no longer exist even if he was home where they used to stand. He thinks of the station, colder and lonelier without Julian, of his own unprecedented reactions to the man, of long years stretching out before him with no purpose, nothing to make life worth living at all. He wonders if perhaps staying here, waiting for a home that doesn’t even exist and in some aspects never really did, is punishing himself.

And he knows that if he can be happy anywhere outside the Union, it is with Julian.

“In case you’re wondering, no, Starfleet can’t forbid you from joining me as my husband without looking horribly racist and intolerant, since you were with us on the _Defiant_ , and in answer to the question of what you would do, anything you want that’s legal.”

Garak is not the man he used to be before his exile, and most days, he thinks it’s for the best. That man would probably have a crippling kanar addiction by now. But this – marrying a Starfleet officer and making his life on Federation starships and stations – is so far removed from anything he’d ever planned that he struggles to imagine it for himself.

“You don’t have to decide tonight,” says Julian. “The _Archimedes_ arrives in four weeks, and we ship out two days after that.” He makes a show of setting the book on his table. “Rastin’aal moraske sel.”

His accent is atrocious. Garak nevertheless understands what he intended to say: “This is yours for the taking.” It’s the traditional line for a proposal which isn’t immediately accepted, and how very thoughtful of him to learn the words.

Garak knows if he leaves Julian’s quarters without that book, he will never come back for it. All the ways this could go wrong will crowd into his mind and nothing will be able to penetrate such defenses. He suspects Julian knows this, too.

Humans are prone to regretting past actions. Cardassians are not, and Garak less than most. He couldn’t and maintain his sanity; he does all his thinking about the consequences and potential outcomes beforehand. If he accepts, if he marries Julian, he will not waste mental energy wondering what might have been. He will simply live the life he has chosen.

It might, in fact, be the first time in his life Garak has ever really chosen his path.

“You are aware,” he says, “of the importance Cardassians place on family. We take marriage quite seriously.”

Well. Most of them did, anyway. Military men were too frequently unfortunate counterexamples.

“I am,” says Julian. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t see myself spending the rest of my life with you. I’ll go so far as to say I would consider retiring to Cardassia, if it’s an option.”

“I doubt it.” Somehow, if he can share his life with Julian, the prospect no longer seems as bleak. Almost tolerable, in fact, which tells him a great deal indeed.

Garak considers the depressing future he faces once Julian leaves and makes his decision. He picks up the book, musing as he does how very horrified Tain would have been, and finds that detail doesn’t bother him in the least.

Julian beams at him for all of two seconds before he throws himself at Garak for a prolonged kiss, and Garak is forced to put the book back down lest his betrothal gift suffer damage.

When Julian stops to breathe, he says, “How many generations of your family history do I have to learn?”

There is a Cardassian matrimonial tradition best skipped. “Never mind that. You can learn Cardassi instead.”

“You already speak Standard,” points out Julian.

“I’ll learn your family history.”

“Don’t bother on my account,” says Julian, and when he leans in for another kiss, Garak decides humans have gotten it right. He doesn’t need to know the past twelve generations of Julian’s lineage to understand the man. He already knows everything important, including that there is nothing he would not do for Julian.

Perhaps this strange feeling is happiness, he thinks, in which case exile doesn’t have to be a slow death, after all.

* * *

 

_Epilogue_

“Elim, have you heard about Zintur IV?”

Some things never change, and one of them is the way Julian’s face lights up when he’s excited. Garak finds this as charming now as he did thirty years ago when they first met.

“A new colony, I understand.” He saves his work and gives up on writing for the time being, because he’ll accomplish nothing while Julian is this enthused.

“An experimental joint effort between the Federation and the Cardassian Union.”

“Yes.” He does follow the news. More than Julian, actually.

“Technically not in Federation or Cardassian space.”

“I watch the newsvids, dear.”

“So, do you want to go?”

“Pardon?”

“Do you want to join the new colony?”

He expected Julian would suggest this in two or three years, if the colony proved successful and once his current tour of duty on Starbase 74 was complete. They both know Julian will advance no further in Starfleet, good a fit though he is for Starfleet Medical’s research division, and have begun to speak of their life after he retired.

Garak has been a Starfleet spouse for twenty-two years now. While there were some adjustment challenges in the beginning, he’s very content as such, difficult though his younger self would’ve found this to believe. It helps that he decided to pursue a career as a novelist, which is not dependent on remaining in one location (but is a very good outlet for his interest in spinning tales). All the same, he would not object to finding a more permanent home, and the idea of not being the only Cardassian around has appeal. As does the warmer climate, which would do his joints good. He is no longer a young man.

“I told you when I proposed that I’d consider retiring to Cardassia,” says Julian. “I know this isn’t the same, but it’s an option I’m happy to consider.”

“You aren’t ready to retire.”

“From medicine, no. From Starfleet, I think I am.”

“I’d rather you’re certain. Once you are, I would be very interested in Zintur IV, if they have use for an author of modest talents.”

It hardly matters if they have use for him or not. They will need a good doctor – new colonies always do – and where Julian goes, Garak is right there beside him. It has been that way for over two decades now, and it will be so as long as they are both alive.

Julian grins. “I thought you would be. It’ll be a whole new adventure.”

“Life with you is a constant adventure.” Just last week they’d been ‘asked’ to watch a pet targ that had the good sense to like Garak, which was all well and good for making Ambassador Korath happy but wreaked havoc on their quarters. It’s only today the living room stopped smelling of targ.

“You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“No,” says Garak, quite heartfelt about the sentiment. “I wouldn’t.”

**Author's Note:**

> We write a lot of post-canon where Julian goes to Cardassia, so I wanted to try something different here. I'm not sure how realistic it is, but hey, it's all fictional anyway, and spring is a good time for fluffy feel-good stories.
> 
> The Archimedes Snippets (link below) follow up on Garak as a Starfleet spouse.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Archimedes Snippets](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21712534) by [AuroraNova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraNova/pseuds/AuroraNova)




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